Daughter Hunger

I am the eldest daughter of an eldest daughter. At the birth of my first child, I was born too; a mother. But not a mother to a daughter. Today, pregnant with my third child, I still hope for a daughter. The number one question people ask me when they find out I am expecting, is “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” This is closely followed by “Will you find out?” My answer is that I wholeheartedly want to know, sooner rather than later, if I am going to have a daughter. Not because I will regret the gift of a son, but because I will need time to grieve the loss of a potential daughter. What is so unique about the mother-daughter relationship? I can only draw on my own experience of being a daughter. 

There have been many moments in my life where my mother and I have shared the rites of passage into womanhood. Notably, there is the metamorphosis of child-like body into a fertile and hormonally cyclic being. I can never forget when my sister commenced her menses and proclaimed proudly to our household, “I am a woman!” In contrast to my sister, I remember my own prudish feelings, patiently observed by my mother, when the time came for me to try on my first bra. There are so many more bright and stylised options these days in the underwear aisle. I hope that one day I can take a shy daughter to choose something she likes. Fashion is always changing, but my mother always knows what looks good on me. In fact, these days I wear some of my mother’s old clothes which are characteristically back in vogue!

Feminine beauty standards are somewhat subjective, fuelling the continual profit of the fashion and makeup industries. It is no surprise then, that the makeup section is a popular place for young girls to hang out and experiment with their “look”. My mother has always been a natural beauty and never worn much make up. I remember when she took me to buy my first makeup kit. It was an emotional experience for my mother because her own had never done this sort of thing with her. We learned together from the assistant how to apply blush and choose the right foundation. Some years later, it was my privilege to take my mother, in her forties, to ger her own ears pierced. Perhaps seeing my ears adorned with lovely accessories, was enough to convince her that the pain would be worth it.

As time goes on, you don’t stop needing your mother. These days, my mother still wishes she could talk to her mother. I hear her comment on her changing arms and hands into those of her mother’s. I look at my own, and see that I am travelling the same course, if some years behind. When I was in my 20s I suffered from gall bladder attacks and had to have surgery. Turns out it might be prudent for me to get a list of my mother’s medical history and start ticking off the conditions that I will likely experience! It’s not solely illness that we inherit. I have also born witness to my mother’s strength and fortitude. Her ability to continue under pressure, push through fatigue, and deny herself to serve others. As I continue in motherhood, I realise more and more the need to draw on one’s own physical stores and to grow new edges that cope with the increasing demands of a growing household. Not only can we bear children, but we can thrive in this life if we have grit and resilience. 

When I gave birth to my first child, my mother was there, and I needed her. She knew the pain of labour. She knew what I was capable of. As her daughter, I knew that she could walk with me through this raw and personal experience like no other. It brought me joy to see the love in her eyes as she first held the child of her child. She birthed me into existence and tended to my infant needs. Then, she tended to my adult needs, the needs a new mother has that some people forget when they come excitedly to meet a new baby. She helped bath my newborn and supported my breastfeeding journey. Having seen her breastfeed my siblings, I knew that I wanted to do the same for my children.

 

As I juggle my load of domestic life and professional career, I turn to my mother for encouragement. She knows the unique position of being a caregiver, while also pursuing your own personal and professional development. Despite the changes in philosophies towards women’s roles in the home, there remains the fact that women alone birth and breastfeed a baby. The changes that we experience in our bodies are unique. From commencing monthly fluctuations, through growing and nourishing a child, to the harrowing experience of menopause. A woman’s body and brain change in so many ways. Mothers and daughters share inside knowledge into these internal battles and the wounds that scar us and remind us of what we are capable of.

 

Women have amazing capacities to meet the demands of the people in their lives. But we need to keep filling up our cups. One of the streams of inspiration and encouragement comes from our mothers. They have been in our shoes, they have walked alongside us, they understand how we think and they are flesh of our flesh. This, is why I hunger for a daughter. I love my sons. But I hope that with a daughter, I can share the long journey of womanhood in a way that goes beyond words. It is shared experience of the perplexing hormones, the miracle of birth, the bone-aching weariness of breastfeeding and nourishing a baby, the battle to find work-life balance in a modern world, that binds mothers and daughters together.